The battlefield was silent at last. Smoke drifted over the ruined plain, rising in thin black ribbons that curled against the dawn sky. The air stank of blood and burnt aether. Bodies of corrupted beasts lay scattered like broken statues, their forms already dissolving into ash now that their master was gone.
The Chaos agent was dead.
And yet, for the Fallen Five, victory felt like survival — nothing more.
---
Zack sat on a shattered boulder, his bastard sword driven into the dirt beside him. He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, sweat dripping from his brow. His armor was cracked, his skin marked with burns and cuts. He grinned faintly, but it lacked his usual fire.
"Damn," he muttered, staring at the horizon where the smoke bled into sunlight. "That was one hell of a scrap."
He didn't admit — not out loud — that there had been moments when he thought he wouldn't rise again. That his blade would slip, his body would give in, and the others would fall because he couldn't keep standing.
---
Aerith knelt in the grass nearby, her staff across her lap. The lilies carved into its crown drooped, their glow faint. She whispered a soft prayer, hands trembling as she tried to weave healing over Galuf's bruised ribs. The magic flickered, weak.
Her voice was quiet. "I almost couldn't… I almost couldn't keep you alive."
Galuf barked a laugh, though it broke into a wince halfway through. He leaned back, ribs bound in Aerith's fading light. "Pah! Don't look so down, lass. Still breathing, ain't I?" He pounded his chest weakly and gave her a crooked grin. "Hurts like the Nine Hells, but that just means I'm alive."
Yet behind his laugh, his eyes were heavy. His body had nearly broken. And he knew it.
---
Noctis stood apart, spear in hand, staring at the crater where the agent had fallen. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths. The night replayed in his mind — his warps faltering, his body burning, the revelation of the Leaping Warp Strike coming not from pride, but from desperation.
He tightened his grip on the weapon. "If I hadn't changed, we'd all be dead." His words were low, almost lost to the wind.
Reks turned toward him, silent. His own armor was battered, his shield gone entirely. The axe he held was chipped, the haft splintered, but his grip on it was firm.
Finally, he spoke. "We almost died anyway."
The words landed heavy.
---
Their trinkets pulsed. Sirius's voice filled their minds, firm and grim.
"You prevailed. But only barely. Remember this. One agent — one — nearly ended you. Chaos will not stop here. When its armies march in full, you must be stronger. Much stronger."
Silence stretched after his words, broken only by the crackle of dying fires and the cries of distant survivors.
Zack exhaled, leaning back, his grin returning though it was weary. "Guess we're not done training, huh?"
Aerith brushed her hand over her staff, her eyes soft but resolved. "Then we'll keep going. We have to."
Galuf rolled his shoulders with a grunt. "Ha! Like I'd quit now. Got a few more fights left in these bones."
Noctis lowered his spear, his voice steady. "I'll master it. Warp, leap… both. I won't waste strength again."
Reks's gaze was distant, fixed on the broken shield at his feet. His voice was quiet, almost bitter. "The people will never know our names. Just classes. Paladin, White Mage, Monk, Dragoon, Warrior. That's all they'll remember."
Aerith reached over, her hand brushing his arm. "Isn't that enough? They're alive. That's what matters."
Reks said nothing more. But he didn't move away.
---
The Five lingered in silence, each lost in thought. Around them, the armies tended to the wounded, raised banners over the fallen, and began the long work of rebuilding. None approached the crater where the Five sat. Perhaps it was reverence, perhaps fear.
Zack rose first, pulling his sword free from the earth. He slung it over his shoulder, his grin a little brighter. "Well. Round one's over. What do you say we take five, huh?"
Galuf groaned as he stood, every bone protesting. "Five days, maybe."
Aerith smiled faintly, though her eyes were still heavy with exhaustion. "Just long enough to remember why we keep fighting."
Noctis sheathed his spear, his expression unreadable, but his steps steady.
Reks lifted his broken axe, his stance quiet, strong, unshaken despite everything.
They parted without ceremony, each walking into a different horizon. No promises, no goodbyes. Only the silent knowledge that when the next shadow rose, they would be called together again.
---
Far above, Sirius stood alone in the heart of the Aetherveil. The starlight shimmered around him, but his gaze was sharp, troubled.
"One agent. And it brought them to the edge." He clenched his fist, his voice low. "If they falter when Chaos itself comes…"
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "No. They won't. They can't."
The Aetherveil thrummed around him, its light pulsing like a heartbeat. Sirius lifted his gaze to the stars.
"Grow stronger, my Fallen. The storm is only beginning."